


Door Number Three

by Snootiegirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Boasting, Knights out, M/M, Partying, Prequel, Rivalry, with permission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snootiegirl/pseuds/Snootiegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the <i>Knight's Out</i> universe created by TempleMistress published on FFN.</p>
<p>What happens when two rivals start arguing? They have to demonstrate their skillz, of course! Anakin and Ferus at Knight's Out-the party, drunk and randy. Anakin and Ferus Olin in the fresher at Knight’s Out, the year before Anakin and Obi-Wan hook up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Door Number Three

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Knight's Out](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/168136) by TempleMistress. 



Anakin was pretty sure he had never been this drunk.

Just to be sure, he tried levitating a glass with the Force. When the glass tipped over and drenched him with the contents, including the remains of someone’s death stick, he knew that his control was a smidge off.

“Shit,” he said, brushing at the growing spot on his shirt—the one he had just bought. He hoped the pink stuff from the glass wouldn’t stain the charcoal fabric. “I guess that answers my question,” he continued to mumble to himself.

Anakin continued to brush at his torso, to little avail, and looked toward the dance floor again. Knight’s Out was in full swing. He could see all sorts of Knights, Masters, and Padawan like him crushed together and swaying—sort of—to the pounding music. It was hard to make out individuals in the crush with the strobe lights flashing. But he knew it mattered little who was on the floor. He was sitting at the table by himself, having unsuccessfully propositioned a few cute girls earlier. And Anakin only cared about that.

I’m alone, he thought miserably. And wet. Yuck. Oh, Force, I sound just like Obi-Wan. Anakin rolled his eyes at himself. To quickly banish any and all thoughts of Obi-Wan and being like him, Anakin stood abruptly and swayed on his feet. “Whoa,” he said to no one in particular, although a few Padawan near him turned to each other and giggled.

Trying to muster some sort of dignity worthy of the Chosen One, Anakin straightened his soaked shirt and adjusted his requisite leather pants. Ok, now where was I going? he thought. Oh, that’s right. I need to take a piss.

Weaving through people as drunk as he was, Anakin made his way to the ‘freshers. He wondered which line was for people who actually had to use the ‘fresher and which was for other activities therein. He bypassed both of them and sauntered into the nearest white-tiled room where he could relieve himself. He ignored the indignant words, grunts, and squawks that followed him. He was Anakin Fucking Skywalker. He could do what he wanted—especially without Obi-Wan looking over his shoulder for one night.

The Force was on his side as Anakin entered. Someone vacated a urinal just as he sauntered in. As he emptied his bladder, Anakin looked around to see if he knew anyone currently in the room. His eyes landed on his rival, Ferus Olin. Anakin narrowed his eyes in drunk irritation. Asshole.

After finishing his business, Anakin took a second look at Olin and wondered just what the prick was doing. He seemed to be watching something going on in the last stall farthest from the door. Maybe it would be worth a peek, he thought to himself.

He sidled up behind Ferus and said, “See something interesting, Olin?”

Ferus glanced around quickly. “Skywalker. I should have known you’d be in here,” he said with as much contempt as he could.

He waved a hand toward the 'fresher stall. “Look for yourself.”

Anakin looked over Ferus’ shoulder into the stall. Two Padawan he didn’t know were engaged in some ‘sparring’ that was less than regulation within the halls of the Temple. As Anakin kept peeping, one of the young men fell to his knees in front of the other. The sound of slurping issuing from the stall quickly overtook any other sounds in the whole room.

Anakin glanced at Ferus. “Picking up pointers, are you?” he teased.

Olin sputtered, “I don’t need pointers . . .ah, well, yea. I mean—no! Just curious, I guess.” He started to flush, but then realized that Anakin hadn’t moved from his viewing perch either.

“What the fuck is that?” Anakin asked and rudely pointed.

“I know, right? I was wondering the same thing,” Ferus rejoined.

Anakin wrinkled up his nose, “Geez, he obviously has no idea what he’s doing.” Ferus looked around at Anakin fully this time.

“And you do?” he asked.

“Well, I could certainly do better than that! Look at him,” Anakin said with a gesture toward the two young men, both of whom seemed oblivious to their audience.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves just fine,” Ferus rejoined. “Besides, to each their own. Perhaps their species likes it better all. . .” Ferus pulled a face as he struggled to describe what was in front of him. “All sloppy and, ew, moldy smelling.”

He covered his nose with the back of his hand.

Anakin scoffed, “You’re going to tell me that you think that guy’s enjoying all of that slime that’s building up on his cock as if the other one’s puking on him?” He had to hand it to them though—they did look happy.

“Perfectly normal for them,” was Ferus’ reply. “Although I’m not sure that the long canine teeth and the spikes on the tongue are necessarily everyone’s cup of tea.” Ferus winced as the tongue in question seemed to penetrate the skin on the other Padawan’s penis. The punctured creature let out a small mewl that seemed to encourage the one on his knees. He began salivating with renewed vigor.

“And, anyway, lu-lubrication isn’t a bad thing, in these circumstances, Skywalker. You would know that if you had any knowledge at all in a situation like this,” Ferus slurred.

“And who says I don’t?” Anakin asked in a low growl right behind Ferus’ ear. “I still say he’s not doing it right, even for their species. Here, look at these two.” Anakin pulled Ferus to the next stall where a female human was pleasuring a male Wookie.

“Now, given that that’s a lot of hair to deal with, she’s still doing a decent job.”

“How do you figure?” Ferus asked him, crossing his arms over his chest, all seriousness now as if they were studying microscopic organisms in a laboratory. “She’s barely got him in her mouth even. And there’s a serious lack of movement.”

Anakin reconsidered, “True. I’ll give you that. But she’s using her hands to work the hairier part of the shaft. No sense in getting a hairball right in the middle of things.” Anakin sniggered at his own joke. Ferus was not amused. He moved back to the last stall and leaned up against the wall in front of it. He faced Anakin with his arms still crossed.

“So maybe the problem is that none of these guys are human,” Ferus postulated. “If they were, then we’d be better able to, um, observe and evaluate from, ah, our own view points?” He was just sober enough to sound like he was making sense but just drunk enough to be applying sense to a debate about the techniques of blowjobs, with his rival of all people.

“No. Blowjobs aren’t a species-proprietary thing. A cock is a cock. It needs the right tending . . . why am I discussing this with you?” Anakin suddenly wondered. He started to turn away and stalk out of the ‘fresher.

“Oh, no, Skywalker, educate me with your vast knowledge of blowjobs, please.” Ferus taunted the Chosen One in the way only he could to get right under Anakin’s skin. “Force knows you want to be the best at everything.” He smirked.

Anakin rounded on Ferus again. “Oh ho, and you don’t want to be Mr. Perfect Jedi? Mr. I-Could-Suck-that-Cock-like-a-Proper-Master? Give me a break, asshole. You’d probably choke on it.” Anakin had stalked right up to get in Olin’s face and poke him in the chest with his finger.

Ferus batted away the offending finger. “Please. Give me a little more credit, would you? If I set my mind to something, I always commit. There’s no halfway and then a childish tantrum as I walk away,” Ferus said, his words full of meaning about Anakin’s short fuse and temper.

Anakin’s eyes narrowed briefly. “Ok,” he agreed somewhat too easily for Ferus’ liking. “Let’s see what’s behind door number three, then.” Anakin stumbled to the next stall, which was empty. “Well, no one here,” he pronounced with an evil grin. “After you, Padawan Olin,” he invited with a sweep of his hand into the stall.

“What?” Ferus started, dropping his hands to his sides and then holding them up in front of him. “No, no, I’m good. No need to—” but Ferus was unable to finish his sentence as Anakin grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him toward the stall.

Ferus was blushing a bright red.

“C’mon,” Anakin urged as he shoved Ferus into the stall and slammed the door shut behind him, blocking the exit. “Pants off. Let’s go.”

“Are you serious?” Ferus asked quietly.

“As serious as the Sith, man,” Anakin replied with an intense stare. “Hey, you have impugned my skills. I have to defend myself, don’t I? I promise not to bite you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Anakin made a small placating motion with his hands.

Ferus was flustered. He wanted to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t know what he wanted. So he resorted to more verbal taunting, as he twisted his hands together in front of him. “What? No foreplay? No kiss before my blow?” He smirked at Anakin, the dare in his eyes.

Anakin suddenly launched himself toward Ferus, pinning him to the wall and crushing their mouths together. Ferus’ eyes opened wide with surprise. He was about to shove Anakin away—had his hands on the other man’s shoulders—but then paused. What was Anakin doing with his tongue inside my mouth? Ferus began to relax and sag into Anakin’s long, hard body.  
Hesitantly, Ferus reached up and wound Anakin’s Padawan braid around a finger to see if he was allowed to touch too. Anakin grunted into Ferus’ mouth, but didn’t stop or reprimand him. They kept kissing more and more deeply, with more abandon than either thought the other capable of. When Ferus slid his other hand from Anakin’s shoulder to behind his neck, Anakin breathed a little sigh into the other mouth. Their hips were beginning to grind as well.

To speed things along, Anakin pulled Ferus’ shirt out of his waistband and slid his hands onto the other young man’s hips. From there, it was easy to unbutton and unzip Ferus’ black pants. Ferus groaned into Anakin’s mouth.

Pulling back to look him in the eyes, Anakin said, “So you like it rough, huh?” He slid his hand down the crease of hip and onto Ferus’ half-hard cock. Experimentally, he gave it a few short tugs.

“Well,” Ferus heaved for breath. “It has been a while . . .” he admitted.

“Good,” Anakin nodded. “That makes my job easier.” And then his insistent lips claimed Ferus’ again while his hand continued to caress the engorged organ.

After a few more minutes, Anakin dropped to his knees on the dirty ‘fresher floor. Ferus kept ahold of the Padawan braid for insurance against the biting as Anakin trailed kisses from the top of one hipbone down into the coarse hair from which sprung Ferus’ already-weeping cock.

Flicking his eyes up to see Ferus’ reaction, Anakin saw his rival’s head fall back and his eyes close at the onslaught of sensations. Ferus adjusted his stance wider for more stability against the wall as his mouth fell open. Anakin smiled to himself. Too easy, he thought.

Starting at the root, Anakin licked the length of Ferus to the tip. Then he nipped lightly around the crown hidden beneath the foreskin. He retracted the foreskin next to tongue quickly at the slit. Ferus tastes salty, he thought somewhere in his booze-addled brain. But it’s not unpleasant.

Shrugging to himself, he continued licking up the length before finally settling his full lips around the tip and pressing them together. Ferus let out a loud groan followed by a “Fuck!” Anakin took that as encouragement and continued the even pressure as he took more and more of Ferus into his hot mouth.

When Ferus started pumping his hips, Anakin stilled him with his hands on his hips again. “Hmm-umm,” he murmured around his mouthful. The vibrations of the murmur sent jolts through Ferus’ groin and up his spine.

“Oh! Fuuuuuuu-ck,” he repeated, more breathlessly.

Anakin measured the weight of Ferus on his tongue as he ran it up and down the length. Considering this was the first blowjob Anakin had given—but wouldn’t be admitting that to Olin—he was interested in how this act was making him feel as well. He erection was already becoming uncomfortable, constrained as it was in his tight leather pants.

Applying as much suction as he could manage, Anakin suppressed his gag reflex. Ferus was continuing to mutter to himself over and over and tugging on Anakin’s braid. I guess he’s not worried about biting anymore, Anakin thought. Okay, I think it’s time to wrap this up.

Anakin increased his pace and figured from Ferus’ posture and incoherent sounds that he was building up. Finally, Ferus gasped and held his breath. And then Anakin felt hot spurts of semen pooling in his throat. He swallowed reflexively, and continued his ministrations until Ferus gave one last shudder and pulled away from Anakin’s face.

Anakin wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. He was suddenly self-conscious after all of his bravado. What now? he wondered. He sat on back on the balls of his feet for a minute to allow Ferus to collect himself, quietly watching the older Padawan through his lowered eyelashes.

Ferus kept his eyes closed for a few more minutes, but his hands tucked himself away and zipped up. Then he rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs. After a minute, he opened his eyes and looked down at Anakin. He smiled shyly. Anakin smiled back just as shyly.

“Well,” Ferus began and had to clear his throat. “I guess you proved me wrong. That was—” he looked away as he searched for the words. “Um, that was really . . .” his voice trailed off.

Irritated at their fluster, Anakin stood up and leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing his arms again. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.” This wasn’t going well, and he frowned down at the floor.

Ferus made a decision. He pushed off of the wall where he was slumped, stepped over to Anakin, placed his hands softly on the other man’s hips, and leaned in closely to his face. Looking from the bright blue eyes to the softly swollen lips, Ferus schooled his face to hold no animosity at all. Brushing Anakin’s lips with his, he whispered, “Thanks. That was fantastic. Really.”

Anakin was embarrassed at the thanks more than the act. “Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. Then in a louder voice, he said,

“Now, buy me a drink, asshole.” He slapped Ferus on the back.

Ferus smiled and said, “Hell no.”

He let Anakin take the lead out of the ‘fresher stall. He would never look at Anakin Skywalker’s posturing the same way again. He had to hand it to him—he did have talent.


End file.
